by Ali Winters
In the quiet, my thoughts grow loud. I scrub my face with my hands. In my attempt to punish a murderess, I have unwittingly set myself up for a punishment of my own.
I make my way through the halls toward the third floor. I need to forget, if only for a night.
It isn’t until I am rounding the corner to climb the stairs that I hear the softest footfalls. Reaching out, I grab Clara’s wrist, preventing her from skewering me with Rosalie’s dagger. The point of the blade rests against the material of my vest, but does not pierce it.
Her eyes are wide as she looks from my face to where I stopped her. Pride swells on her face that she got closer to drawing blood than ever before. It twists something inside of me. Her face is flushed, her breathing a little too fast, as if she’d been running through the manor.
“I see your hand has healed up nicely,” I say as if, between the two of us, we had not spent the last week avoiding each other. “I half expected to find you asleep in the library again.”
I move the dagger, and in a motion that we have both become used to, I pull her to me and lower my mouth to hers. There is nothing hesitant in her this time. Now she leans into it, deepening it as she presses the length of her body against mine.
Fuck. This woman will destroy me if she doesn’t learn how to attack a vampire soon.
I pull away and release her as I move to walk around her.
She strikes out, her arm swinging toward me, and I block the strike with little effort. “Come now, Clara, you can do far better than that. It’s like you weren’t even trying.”
Clara narrows her eyes at the accusation. “You know what I think? I think you’re regretting this bargain you made with me.”
Once more, I pull her to me and kiss her, cupping her face with both hands. She has more than enough time to stab me with the dagger, but instead she wraps her arms around my neck, pushing up on her toes.
This is not enough. The small distance our clothes create feels like a chasm between us.
May the Otherworld destroy me where I stand—I should hate her with every fiber of my being, I should want to destroy her for what she did, but right now all I can think about is how I want to feel every inch of her bare skin against mine, and bury myself deep inside her.
Her teeth scrape my lip, reminiscent of the time she bit me. My hands skim down the sides of her body. And then she groans into my mouth and I want to devour her in every sense of the word… and it’s then I know I am about to lose myself to her.
I run one hand along her arm then take the dagger from her hand in the same instant I step back. With a flick of my wrist, the dagger imbeds into the wall up to its hilt.
“Enough,” I say. Though my body aches to return to her. If I allow this to continue, I don’t think either of us will be able to stop at just a kiss.
Like a coward, I leave her standing there as I retreat to my sanctuary.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Clara
He was right when he said I didn’t even try with that second attempt. But I am tired. Tired of feeling guilty. And so, so, so tired of always fighting. I want to give in to something else, even with this man who has taken my life… I had wanted so much more than that simple kiss.
With every kiss, I feel as though I fall deeper under his spell. And though he might not be compelling me, he must be using some power of his to make me want him as I do.
I got close last night to drawing blood. Less than an inch… but I am nowhere near as skilled as I need to be, and I am afraid that if I wait much longer I will be truly and utterly lost to him in every way. There is no other explanation for wanting a vampire, a creature who ripped my family apart and took me from the man I meant to spend the rest of my life with.
The song of morning birds drift through my open window. A horse whinnies from out front, drawing me to the window. Mr. Devereaux mounts a large roan steed, pushing it into a run as soon as he’s seated and heads south. This could be the chance I’ve been waiting for.
If I stay here, I will die. I know that now. But if I run and he finds me, he might kill me.
Either way, I am a dead woman. The only difference is when and where. If I must die, then I want it to be on my terms, I want to be free.
And just like that, I breathe a little easier knowing I have decided my own fate.
I hurry across the room and throw open the armoire. Ignoring the section of dresses, I search the drawers. The first is stuffed with an assortment of corsets. Definitely not what I need. There are more drawers filled with all kinds of underthings. Also not what I’m looking for.
Then, in the bottom drawer, there are two bundles of clothing. I reach in and pull one out. A pair of fitted trousers and a shirt. I don’t waste a second removing the dress I spent all night huddled up in.
Donning the men’s clothes feels more like home, familiar and what I’m used to. Unlike my own, however, they fit me like a glove. As though someone had gone so far as to take my measurements before creating them.
At some point, Alaric had these made for me. As warmth seeps into my heart, I banish it. I must leave. I cannot be grateful to him now.
I slip the dagger into my boot, making sure it is hidden but still accessible. Then I stroll through the manor, as if today is just another day where I attempt to entertain myself. It is the perfect time to leave. He won’t realize I’m gone until it’s too late.
“Good morning, Miss,” Mr. Steward’s level voice stops me in my tracks as I reach the foyer.
I give him a strained smile. My heart picks up its pace. Not even out of the manor and I’ve been caught.
He clearly doesn’t approve of my outfit, a fact made clear by the slight curl to his lip. “Will you be wanting breakfast?”
I shake my head. “No, not today.”
After a pause, he says, “Very well.”
I turn and hurry outside before he can take up more of my time. The man makes me uneasy.
I make my way through the gardens and toward the forest in a wandering line, trying to appear as if I don’t have a destination by keeping a leisurely pace, though doing so kills me. I am acutely aware that every second that ticks by is another wasted.
I pause at the tree line, watching the shadows dance and play beneath the canopy. There are still several hours of daylight left. I should make it out of the forest and to a town before night falls if I hurry.
It will be a long journey.
I look back at the intimidating manor. What will Alaric do when he realizes I’m no longer here?
It doesn’t matter… Kitty needs me and every second I linger, is one more second I lose escaping this place.
Maybe together we can take the money I saved, leave, and find a place of our own without Father, somewhere the vampire will never find us.
And Father can learn to pay his own debts.
Once my feet touch the road and I am in the forest, I run. The temperature dips noticeably, sending a wave of chilled air over me.
It occurs to me that I don’t know the exact way home, I was asleep for much of it. But I know the general direction, and that will suffice for the time being until I hit the first town and can ask someone.
After running for a solid hour, I finally allow my legs to slow to a walk. I have to make sure I save my energy for the road ahead.
Above, the birds chip peacefully. It’s hard to believe demons inhabit the forests at night. I breathe easier away from that manor and the vampire.
The day wears on and it’s a relief to just be. No need to hunt, no need to steal from the more wealthy people of town. I only need to enjoy nature and the solitude.
Still, every so often—far too often for my liking—my thoughts wander back to that vampire. Surely by now he must have returned. And no doubt one of his staff will have noticed my absence and told him I’ve not been seen since morning.
No one has come for me. There has been nary a sound or hint of another soul on this road since I started. Mr. Devereaux must not care that I hav
e left.
Gradually, the shadows deepen, and the once refreshing cool air chills further. There is still some time before the sun will set and I must worry about demons coming out. But this damnable forest seems to be going on forever.
I might have been mistaken in slowing my pace as much as I have. I had thought for sure by now that I would have reached a town.
My stomach growls. I’ve been hungrier before, at least this I can ignore for the time being.
I start jogging. How long will this go on before I reach a break in the trees?
A rapid flutter of wings sounds behind me and I skid to a stop and look around, wondering if there’s an injured bird, or a small flock startled by something other than me.
Then the flutter comes again, more intense, closer. I strain to listen, trying to identify it. Not a flock of birds…
I swallow.
A round of strange, yet distinct chirping, something I’d recently heard.
Shit.
That flying rodent is on my trail. No sooner do I think that then it appears through the leaves.
“Shoo, beastie! Go away!” I wave my arms at it, which doesn’t do any good. It continues flying in erratic patterns, watching me with those unnerving large eyes.
It darts closer, hovering before my face. I swing at it again with my arm but it’s moving too unpredictably. It squeaks and chirps and if I didn’t know better, I’d say it was trying to communicate.
“Get out of here!”
It swoops over my head and I duck to avoid its attack. Spinning, I ready for another attempt, but it’s flying away, back toward the manor.
I watch it disappear into the distance. There is something so deliberate about that creature. Bats are not loyal things, but this one is far from ordinary.
If it came out here and returned once it found me, then Alaric must have ordered it to locate me. That means he’ll soon learn I am on the road.
I turn and head off the path and into the thick of the forest, running as hard as I can to get farther away. I leap over fallen trees and swat at low hanging branches. I’m tiring quickly now, but I don’t dare slow down.
Fatigue grows within my muscles. I was a fool not to eat before I left, or at the very least bring food with me.
The tip of my boot catches on the ground and I stumble, managing to catch myself before I fall. I run and run and run until I can’t catch my breath.
I have to slam into a tree to stop myself. The bark bites into the skin of my palms. Leaning against the trunk, I pant until I can breathe again.
A howl in the far distance carries to me. It’s then I look around and realize how fast it’s getting dark.
Seconds later, another wolf cries out, answering the call and sending a chill crawling down my spine. One more howl comes after a moment, joining them.
I stiffen. They seem to be coming from every direction. Reaching down, I grab the hilt of the stiletto dagger and pull it from my boot.
Then I’m off, running once more. I’m not sure what would be worse; fending off wolves… or higher demons. I need to get out of the forest because I do not intend on finding out.
The howls chase me, growing closer the farther I run. A branch snaps close behind, and I turn to look over my shoulder.
That was my mistake.
I trip over a thick tree root protruding out of the ground and go sprawling. The impact steals my breath and my dagger flies from my hand, just out of reach. At least I didn’t lose it in the debris.
A twig snaps above my head and I push myself to my knees. A man looks down at me, my dagger next to his foot. He’s dressed in traditional hunting dress. Polished hunting boots, clean trousers, a fashionable jacket, and gloves. Though he seems to be missing his cap.
Light brown eyes that appear almost amber in color smile down on me. The man’s auburn hair is shaggy and the splattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks give him a youthful appearance.
He squats down so he’s eye level with me and removes his leather gloves. He holds out a hand and grins widely. “Hello, little one, what are you doing out here by yourself? Night is falling.”
I don’t take his hand, having seen no evidence of the horse that should be at his side. He is ridiculously handsome, but if good looks meant someone was trustworthy, I would already be the best of friends with Alaric.
I lunge forward and grab my dagger at his feet and point it at his neck.
“I don’t bite,” he says, ignoring the sharp end and gesturing again for me to take his hand. His smile widens so much that the corners of his eyes crinkle.
We remain in a standoff, then eventually he nods and stands, taking a few steps back holding both hands up.
“I mean you no harm, little one.”
“What do you want?” I ask, well aware that every second I spend dealing with him is a moment lost. The sun is setting far too quickly.
My gaze darts around for his horse. If I could take it… then I could get out of this forest before night and escape Mr. Devereaux.
“It’s all right.” He lists his head to the side. “I am Oliver Wolverick, you may call me Oliver, or Oli if you wish. What might yours be?”
“Clara.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Clara Valmont.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Valmont.”
I snort at being called a lady. One look at me is all it takes for anyone to know that.
He ignores the sound and continues, “I suppose you are looking at me because I’m dressed like a gentleman but I’m out in the middle of the woods at sundown?”
I nod. “For all I know, you are a murderer.”
“I could say the same thing about you. How do I know you won’t slit my pretty throat with that dagger of yours the first chance you get?”
I ignore his question. “Where’s your horse.”
“I don’t need one. I live nearby—what’s your excuse?”
A thought occurs to me—“You’re not a vampire are you?”
He laughs, not a quiet chuckle but a boisterous guffaw. “Demons and saints, no!” he laughs. “I could not be the furthest thing from it.”
I relax slightly at his seeming distaste for it.
The howling from earlier picks up once more, closer now.
“We should go,” I say. “It’s not safe.”
Oliver steps up to me and places a hand on my shoulder. I didn’t realize I lowered my dagger until just now.
“You need not fear the wolves.” He leans closer and sniffs once as if he’s scenting the air.
I stare dumbly at him. Of course... the howling, his sudden appearance—he’s a shifter. There are none anywhere near my village, so it hadn’t even occurred to me.
“I didn’t realize there were any of your kind this far from the north,” I say.
Oliver grins. It’s a boyish smile, but it’s wide enough to see his slightly elongated canines. But it fades quickly as he adopts a serious expression that doesn’t quite suit him. “You smell of vampire,” he says and looks around, seeming to put everything together—my being out in the forest alone, asking if he was one of them, the dagger, my obvious fear… “Are you all right?”
“I’m just trying to get home, away from one of those… monsters,” I say. If he finds them as distasteful as I, then perhaps I’ve found an ally. “He was keeping me captive in his manor.”
Oliver’s eyes widen in surprise, and then he hums, saying, “I was not aware that the vampire in these parts has become so… primitive.”
The shadows continue to lengthen, and my unease heightens.
“I need to keep going,” I say.
“It’s getting late, I can take you to my pack. We could always use more members.”
I shake my head and move around him. I’m not interested in trading one beast for another, even if he seems nice. “I’m sorry, there is somewhere else I have go.”
Slowly, I turn my back on him and walk away. Part of me expects he will try to stop me, but I keep my dagger clutched tigh
tly in my hand.
“Clara,” he calls out. I look back over my shoulder. He hasn’t moved a single step toward me. “I may not be able to protect you from the monsters that linger after sunset, but you will have nothing to fear from the wolves.” He raises his arm and points in the opposite direction than I’m moving in. “You will want to head that way to the nearest town.”
“Thank you,” I say.
He nods and the smile that spreads across his lips looks pitying, as though he doubts that I will make it that far.
I push my shoulders back and run in the direction he told me to go in. If I don’t make it, then it won’t be for the lack of trying.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Clara
Leaves kick up in my wake, hissing like a dozen snakes are on my heel. My imagination grows more and more wild by the second, spurring on my fears. The night is upon me. That thought repeats over and over through my mind with every step I take. I was hasty to leave without trying to find a map, without preparing myself. I don’t even know what direction the nearest village is.
Then a break in the trees appears up ahead, and I could almost cry in relief. I am so close to getting out, but it’s too late. The demons will emerge from wherever it is they sleep during the day.
I force my legs to move faster and faster, but the brush thickens, trying to slow me down. Branches reach out, grabbing at my hair and clothes.
A flash of red glints through the dark to my right. I stumble when I look, but there’s nothing there. Then another flash of red straight ahead. Two dots.
Demons.
The harder I run the more sets of eyes seem to awaken and appear.
The shadows thicken into shapes and I stop short as a ghastly shape rears up before me. A thick billowing cloud of black smoke slowly takes form. Its skin is too dry and taut, cracking slightly where it moves. It shows off distorted bone and ribs that stick out too far. The limbs are too long to look right.
The demon steps closer. Its form looks painful with each quick, jerky movement—how it moves should be impossible, the joints bend and twist in sickening directions.